Two months before the end of their college life, a school program was announced—one last big event before they all parted ways. The campus buzzed with excitement as students talked about the upcoming search for the School Muse Representative. It was one of those events that gave a shining spotlight to beauty, charm, and presence. Naturally, the prettiest girls lined up to join—and so did Erica.
Right—Erica was one of them.
Though she had never been one to bask in attention, her friends knew that when Erica wanted to shine, she could outshine them all. Still, something about seeing her step forward for this role felt different. Like something had shifted.
The following week came fast. It was elimination day.
But Erica… wasn't there yet.
Whispers circled. Some girls were already preparing their winning smiles, relieved that a strong contender might not show. Teachers glanced at their watches. Her friends? They were quietly worried—Angel most of all.
Then the door opened.
There she was.
Erica stepped in, her hair tied in a simple low ponytail, her face glowing, her eyes focused, confident—but not loud. Something about her energy made people pause. The room, once filled with chatter, slowly fell silent.
She didn't just walk in—she entered, like someone who belonged in every gaze.
"Hey… I think Erica's about to melt soon," Kim leaned toward Angel with a teasing smirk.
"Oh, please," Angel muttered, though her lips twitched into a small smile, "can you just let me appreciate my girlfriend's stupidly beautiful face in peace?" She threw an arm around Kim's neck, gave her an overly sweet smile, and rolled her eyes.
Angel tried to act cool, but the way her eyes followed Erica's every move was anything but casual.
The competition ended in less than an hour, but the effect lingered far longer.
Erica won.
Of course she did.
What no one expected, though, was how the crowd reacted afterward. As the program ended, students from every corner of the campus came closer—smiling, praising, asking for photos, wanting to know her. She was used to being liked, sure—but this was new. This was overwhelming.
"Erica, can we get a selfie?"
"Your makeup was so simple but powerful, seriously! Who did it?"
"Are you free later? We're getting milk tea to celebrate the event—come with us?"
She smiled kindly, politely, always gentle, never giving anyone more than a word or two. But even that was enough to make Angel clench her jaw.
Angel stood at the side, arms crossed, her lips pressed tightly together. She wasn't the type to get jealous easily—but watching strangers lean closer to Erica, hearing them compliment her girl, seeing how Erica smiled back—it burned just a little.
No. A lot.
When Erica finally got a moment to breathe, she spotted Angel in the corner.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
She walked over, slow, teasingly slow.
"Someone's awfully quiet," Erica said, stopping right in front of her girlfriend. "Did the cat get your tongue? Or was it… jealousy?"
Angel raised an eyebrow, refusing to look directly at her. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Oh no," Erica laughed gently, placing her hand on Angel's cheek, "you don't get to be jealous and smug. That's not how it works."
Angel opened her mouth to respond—but Erica didn't let her.
Instead, she leaned in—and kissed her.
Right there, in front of the crowd.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't shy. It was a kiss meant to tell the world she belongs to me, and I belong to her. Students around them erupted into cheers and laughter, a few even clapping and whistling. Kim let out a loud "Wooo!" while Steph dramatically fanned herself.
Angel pulled away slightly, her eyes wide, cheeks tinted red.
Erica whispered against her lips, "That's your punishment, baby. For being so adorably jealous."
But not everyone was cheering.
Nicole stood at the far back, silent.
Her eyes didn't reflect surprise or jealousy—they reflected something deeper. Something unspoken. She stared for just a moment longer, then turned quietly and walked away, her steps slow, deliberate, her silence screaming more than words ever could.
Risha saw.
She watched Nicole walk off and bit her lip, wanting to follow—but she didn't. She just stood there, her expression unreadable, choosing silence over interference.
Because sometimes, the loudest heartbreak is the one that never says a word.